


Just Hold On

by miss_match



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, At this point, Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Creeper Hybrid Sam | Awesamdude, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Not Canon Compliant, POV Multiple, POV Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Parent Sam | Awesamdude, Phil parent redemption?, Protective Sam | Awesamdude, Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), SAM CONFRONTS PHIL, Sad Parental Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sam | Awesamdude-Centric, Suicidal Thoughts, Tommy's sad, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, awesamdad, but he's not gonna die, c!dream sucks, don't read if that upsets you, he's a lil bitch, in the slightest, kinda Tommyinnit character study, like always, maybe? - Freeform, techno is kinda just great
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29647761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_match/pseuds/miss_match
Summary: Tommy tries to hold onto hope, but can feel it slowly slipping away.Sam for the first time feels anger boiling inside his stomach.Phil confronts the guilt that has been trying to ignore.And Techno just really wants to punch someone.AKA: Tommy prison arc, but with SBI family dynamic and Awesamdad angst (and feels). Tommy, Sam, Phil, and Techno POV (so far)NOT CANON COMPLIANT!!! TOMMY DOESN'T DIE IN PRISON AU.it made me sad so i fixed it. :D
Relationships: Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Clay | Dream
Comments: 96
Kudos: 1078
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	1. Chapter 1

The prison was hot.

The lava barrier filled the small room with heat, blanketing the prison with an unbearable warmth. Even after the first hour he could feel himself bending to the heat, bowing down to the sweltering fires. The warmth tore away at his skin, the heat so painful it brought tears to his eyes.

It reminded him of exile.

It reminded him of the days where he would slave away for materials, challenge the wrath of the sun, the wrath of the world, simply so he could survive the next day. Those were the days where he nearly passed out from exhaustion.

Those were the days death seemed most appealing.

But for some reason he had kept fighting.

Even as his hands had cracked in the depths of the mines; even as his blood coated the handles of hastily made weaponry, he had kept fighting.

Until he hadn’t.

Until the man in the mask entered his head.

The masked man had always burned him. Always punished him. But he had always fought. He had always known the man was wrong. He was always in the right.

But then the man had wrapped his punishments in beautiful words.

_I am your only friend_ , he had said to cool every burn.

_I am the only one who’s here_ , he had murmured to heal every bruise.

_I am the only one who loves you_ , he had sung to mend every cut.

The skin did slowly stitch itself back together, the burns had blistered until they too had faded slightly. But they were never truly gone. The acts left scars on his body. Ugly, horrendous marks that made him want to throw up.

But at least the wounds on his skin healed. The scars on his mind never did.

Instead of healing, the scars in his head opened further. They let in the kindness the man showed him; blocked out the pain that always came before. 

He grew to love the man in the mask.

Grew to rely on the words; accept the punishments.

It was for his own good.

So he had stopped fighting.

There was nothing left to fight against. 

So there was also nothing more to fight for.

He would never win against the man. It was a fight he lost everyday. He had the burns and the bruises to show it.

And besides, the man was his friend. Why would he have to fight him anyways?

He had learned to outwit the heat, strategized how to outrun the sun, even taught himself to ignore the pain ever present in his body, but he could never beat the man in the mask. He couldn’t even convince himself to fight him anymore.

Until he had.

He had beat the man in the mask. He had ripped the smile from his face, tore the victory right from his fingertips and clutched it within his own. He had won. After everything, he could finally rest.

The masked man was gone.

Except he wasn’t.

Even trapped in Pandora’s Vault, the man in the mask appeared everywhere. He was in the back of his mind; making him flinch at a raised voice, cry out during explosions, even break down with unexpected contact.

The scars on his body may have healed.

But the ones on his mind were still bleeding.

So he went back to fighting the sun.

He had built the hotel. He had worked harder, poured his heart and soul into something productive. He decided to try and be something; something other than a failure, something other than a disappointment. He was worthy. He had to be. 

But he couldn’t fight in the prison.

There was no way to work harder, no way to fight his way out.

He was trapped.

He was trapped with _him._

He was back to fighting a losing battle. So he did the only thing he could think to do.

He screamed.

Tommy cried for help. The sounds teared at his throat, ripped away from his mouth. But despite his cries, despite his tears, no one came. He tore strangled cries from his throat until his throat burned and tears streamed down his cheeks.

But still no one came.

The lava gurgled across from him, mocking him and his predicament. The same lava that was always there. He hadn’t been tempted by it in so long. But now, as the reds and oranges cascaded over each other, he couldn't help but imagine the release.

But he wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t. He had to keep fighting. He had to. He had to.

“Tommy,” A soft voice said, “No one is coming for you. At least not for a week.”

Tommy froze at the voice. He didn’t want to fight him again. He just wanted to go home; he just wanted to leave.

But he didn’t really have a home anymore. And there was no way to leave.

So instead he hoped.

“They’ll come.” Tommy croaked, his voice sore from the screams that tore from his throat, “I know they will.”

The man behind him simply sighed and set a hand on his shoulder. He moved to jerk away, but his grip stayed strong. The touch was familiar. Almost comfortable. Hatred burned in his stomach, but for some reason he still had to fight the urge to lean into the touch.

He jerked away, frantically shaking his head. No. Not again. He wouldn't give in.

“I’m here, Tommy,” The man crooned, “I know you think that I've done some bad things, but I have always been there for you. I never left. I never gave up on you. I care about you.”

Tommy shook his head furiously, his thoughts overlapping, “No. No you don’t. I know you don’t. I know it—“

“Do you?” Dream asked, green eyes shining. “Can you really tell me that there is anyone outside these walls that gives a damn about you?”

Tommy’s breath caught as he stilled. Was there? Was there really anyone left in this world that gave a damn about him?

He forced himself to look up at Dream, he was no longer the man in the mask. He was no longer the puppet master that expertly pulled the strings on his back. No. Now he was just a man. A sad, pathetic, lonely man that did not care.

But looking into his green eyes, the green eyes that reflected the fires churning in the lava, he couldn’t help but miss the mask. He couldn’t help but miss the one thing that kept him from being human.

Maybe he didn't want to think of him as a person.

Maybe the person beneath the mask did actually care for him.

Maybe.

“I don't know.” Tommy answered breathlessly. He immediately regretted it. Of course there were people that cared about him. Of course there were. 

“No.” He announced again, frantically shaking his head as he backed away from Dream, “Phil cares. He’s my dad. _He_ cares about me.”

Dream simply sighed, “Oh, Tommy. Phil doesn't care about you.”

Tommy stopped moving, “W—What, no—“

“When we blew up L’manburg he laughed the loudest. He smiled the brightest. He relished in the destruction; your pain.” 

Dream frowned down at him sympathetically.

“He cared about Wilbur, yes. He regretted killing him, and will now do anything to bring him back. And obviously he cares about Techno. He’d abandon you for him every time. But in all the time I’ve known Phil, he’s never mentioned you once, unless it was to complain about you.”

Tommy’s face blanched. He was lying. He knew in his heart that this was just Dream trying to pluck a string, trying to force a piece on his chess board forward. He knew this wasn’t real.

Except for the fact that Phil _had_ laughed as L’manburg fell. He _had_ unflinchingly shot an arrow at his chest. He had mourned Wilbur and supported Techno. But even when Tommy was with them, Phil rarely payed him any mind.

Maybe his dad didn’t love him.

Dream was right.

No. No he wasn't. He couldn't be.

“Wilbur did.” Tommy choked out, the words sounding foreign on his tongue, “Wilbur loved me. He—he raised me. He was always there—”

Dream let out a mirthless chuckle, “Wilbur loved power, he loved control, you were simply a tool that could get him those things faster. As for raising you, well, you were just a burden. A pitiful pest that he couldn’t seem to shake off.”

Dream cocked his head, “And even if some small part of him did care about you, well, it’s probably long gone by now. Just like he is.”

Tommy ducked his head, clutching his hands over his ears. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to hear his words. Phil loved him. _He hates you now._ Wilbur was there. _He left you too._

“Techn—“

Dream cut off his reply with a single laugh.

“Oh, Tommy. Technoblade despises you. Phil and Wilbur might not love you, but Technoblade hates you.”

Tommy shrunk in on himself. The walls had gotten smaller. Obsidian was digging into him at all sides, burning his skin. He couldn’t breathe. The air was thinning. He couldn’t—he couldn’t.

“There, there.” A calming voice said as they rubbed circles on his back, “You’re okay. I’m here, Tommy, I’m here.”

Tommy relaxed. This was familiar. This was Dream. Dream loved him, right? Sure, he hurt him occasionally, but it was all for his own good—

_friends don’t hurt friends._

_friends don’t hurt friends._

_friends don't hurt friends._

Tommy looked up at Dream, wiping away the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Tubbo—“

“Exiled you. He also betrayed you multiple times.”

“Tubbo loves me,” Tommy continued, “I know he does. I know it! He went with me to fight you. He was willing to die! He loves me.”

Dream seemed to concentrate on his words, allowing the outburst to settle into the air. Tommy thought he had won. He had found someone that Dream couldn’t take away from him. He couldn’t twist his image of his best friend.

“Okay,” Dream relented, a small, unseen smile playing on his lips, “Tubbo might have loved you. But you pushed him away.”

“Wha—What. No I didn’t—“

_“The disks were worth more that you ever were!”_

The words settled in his gut like a pile of rocks. They weighed him down every day, reminded him how he had set the value of some stupid music disks over his best friend.

“No. NO. I forgave him, he forgave me—“

“How much have you two talked this last week? Have you two been as close as ever? Gone running through the forests? Had sleepovers?”

_No._

The unsaid answer hung in the air, almost as suffocating as the heat itself. He hadn’t been there for Tubbo when he needed it. He had pushed away his best friend, he hadn’t allowed them to be friends again.

It was all his fault.

Just like always.

It was all his fault.

Sam had told him it wasn’t his fault once

_“Tommy, none of this is your fault.”_

_Tommy had somehow ended up at the L’manburg crater again. He always ended up here somehow. Looking down at the jagged edges, wondering how badly it would hurt if he fell. He would probably die on impact. It would be over quickly._

_“Yeah, I know that, Big Man.” He said with a laugh. But even he could tell that it wasn’t convincing. His voice sounded hollow, as if there was nothing in him that was fighting anymore._

_“Tommy,” Sam started, taking a seat next to him by the crater, “It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to feel broken, you just have to let people help you.”_

_“People?” Tommy scoffed, “People don’t care about me—“_

_“No.” Sam interrupted sternly, but not unkindly, “There are so many people on this server that care about you. Phil loves you, Wilbur loved you, hell, I’m pretty sure Technoblade still hates himself for caring about you, and god knows Tubbo would fight the world for you, Tommy.”_

_Tommy scoffed, keeping his eyes trained on the crater below him._

_“I care about you, Tommy. And I know you feel like you don’t have anyone. I know you feel as if some part of you has been carved out, but I am here for you. And I’m not going anywhere.”_

_Tears clouded Tommy’s eyes as he choked out one word, “Promise?”_

_“I promise.”_

_Tommy allowed choked sobs to escape his throat as he leaned against Sam, staring out at the crater blanketed only by night._

“Sam cares about me.” Tommy whispered, so quietly that only he could hear. Dream had thought he won. He probably thought that he could break Tommy, fracture him inside like he once did, but he wouldn’t win this time.

He jerked away from Dream once again, a determined growl spreading across his face. Dream was the enemy. And he was a fucking liar.

He had someone waiting for him on the outside.

This wasn’t exile. He didn’t have to pretend like the man in the mask wasn’t a villain. Dream was the bad guy. 

But this wasn’t exile. 

There was no sun for him to fight in prison. 

No way to outwit the heat. 

He would have to face the man in the mask.

But this time there was someone outside the prison waiting for him. Despite everything, he knew that Sam would be there.

He just had to hold on.


	2. A Warden's Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is the Warden. He is the strong, cold, ruthless presence that guards the worst evil the server has ever seen. It is his job to make sure that the prisoner stays confined at all times, even if it means leaving someone he cares about in there with him.
> 
> OR
> 
> Sam's perspective on Tommy getting trapped in the Prison.

He had always considered the prison to be beautiful.

It was a labyrinth of red stone, a testament to the complex beauty that could be enacted from the smallest of blocks. It was a monument to what could be created, what _he_ could create.

He had also loved being Warden.

When he was constructing the prison, he loved the feeling of complete and utter control. Nothing in this godforsaken server was ever predictable, but this was. This beautifully horrific construction was the one thing that he could control.

It was made of stones and obsidian and blocks. It was circuitry and machinery. And it was completely and utterly predictable and impenetrable.

It would never blow up like L’manburg.

Withers nor raining TNT would never break through the walls. It would never become just a crater in the ground, it was safe.

It was the one thing he knew wouldn’t break. He knew it wouldn’t fracture.

So he always gazed upon it with beauty, with pride, thankful that one of his oldest friends had commissioned him to make it.

He never cared as to why.

He never cared as to who would be placed in the prison.

He decided that it didn’t concern him. He was the builder. He didn’t need to get involved in any of their petty wars, he had his machines, his buildings, and that was all he needed. He thought it was the right decision.

It wasn’t.

He knew that Dream planned to use the prison for Techno, that’s why all the meals were going to be raw potatoes. He’d found it funny at the time; him and Techno were always cordial, but there was no love lost between him and the Blood God. Burning down civilizations had always seemed like such a waste of materials. 

But it wasn’t Techno that Dream had decided to place in this prison. It wasn’t another god, another monster. No, Dream was going to take a traumatized minor and place him within the walls.

The prison wasn’t built for a kid. The prison was built to be an inescapable fortress, it was meant to drain all hope from you, make sure you understood that you would never get out. It was a cage, and it was somewhere no kid belonged.

It hurt even more that he learned all this surrounded by the entire SMP, watching as two kids stood up to one of the most feared beings in the history of their universe.

It made him angrier than he had ever felt. Of course that was still relatively calm. He never got truly angry. Being half creeper, one second of uncontrollable anger would lead to unimaginable pain.

So he had learned to distance himself from most situation, never let anger seep into his veins, but when Tommy told him about how Dream had almost killed Tubbo, almost put Tommy in the prison, he was mad.

He had grown closer to Tommy after Doomsday, he hadn’t necessarily been close with the kid, but he knew that him and Tubbo needed someone to protect them. They needed an adult in their life that wouldn’t betray them.

He had forced himself to believe that there hadn’t been much he could’ve done for them before the Disc Confrontation, before they beat Dream. Dream would’ve found a way to create a cage, why was it his fault for building it?

But hearing from Dream what he was going to do to those kids, he realized he should’ve been there more. He should’ve been by Tommy’s side right after L’manburg fell. But it wasn't until they finally saw the strings that Dream had them all hanging by, that he had realized how much he had failed.

So he stepped up. Tommy wanted Wilbur back, so he offered to place Dream in the prison. Dream had bragged that he could find a way out, but Sam knew he couldn’t. Dream might’ve been the one to pay him, but it was Sam’s hands that bore the scars of creation, not his.

So he locked him up. He wished he could say that it was satisfying, that he loved every moment of it. But he didn’t. He hated throwing Dream in the prison.

He hated locking up one of his oldest friends in the very tower he told him to build. 

He hated looking into his eyes and seeing nothing, not one remnant of the man he used to consider his friend. Instead he saw a shell. He saw someone who had willingly thrown away his soul, all in the pursuit of control.

He saw a monster.

A monster that had finally revealed himself.

Dream loved detailing everything he did to Tommy. He would regale Sam with tales of exile with an uninhibited glee. His eyes would light up as he described how Tommy broke, he would laugh as he spoke about the fractured child, how he tore him open.

He saw breaking Tommy as his greatest victory.

It made Sam sick. Tommy’s mind shouldn’t be a casualty of this war. He was a kid, he still deserved to do kid things, he shouldn’t have had to fight a god. He shouldn't have had to do any of this.

After Dream’s sickeningly detailed descriptions of exile, he had went to check on Tommy, just to make sure he was okay. They weren’t necessarily close, but he had said he’d be there if he needed him. He just wanted to make sure he was fine.

He wasn’t.

Every time someone would raise their voice to Tommy he would flinch, every time someone got to close he would freeze, a deer in the headlights, as if he was expecting a punishment.

There were moments when he seemed so hollow. As if Dream had reached inside of him and carved out everything that had made him Tommy.

Sam knew the kid needed someone.

So he was always there.

He had planned on being a stable adult figure, just a responsible adult that would be there if needed. He didn’t need to be a constant in the kid’s life, maybe just someone he could talk to.

He’d heard that Tommy, this loud, obnoxious, arrogant kid had a way of worming his way into people’s hearts.

He had never believed them, not until Tommy found a way to do the same thing to him.

He had planned on keeping an arms length of distance, not allowing himself to get swept up into the world of chaos that followed Tommy wherever he went.

But he grew to love the kid.

He grew to crave the too-rare small smile, he grew to cherish every boisterous laugh, he grew to treasure every time his now dull-blue eyes sparkled. He was there for him, but not just occasionally. 

He grew to fear the thought of anything happening to Tommy, grew to resent anyone that had cause him harm in the past, he grew to care for him. A lot. 

He realized that he wanted to be there for him. He wanted to protect him from a world that had shown him nothing but cruelty.

So when Tommy told him that he wanted to visit Dream one last time, he was terrified. He had hated when Tommy had visited that monster the first time, tried to discourage him from stepping foot in the prison ever since then.

And for a while Tommy had listened.

He had built the hotel with Sam Nook, started to smile more, grown to trust Sam, started to flinch a bit less, Sam had even encouraged Tommy to finally schedule an appointment with Puffy.

But Tommy needed closure.

He needed to show the man who manipulated him, the man who hurt him, the man who _abused_ him, that he was fine. He had to show him that one day he would be able to forget him, and that he could be happy again.

Sam understood.

They had locked Dream in prison, he was never getting out. But the only way for Tommy to truly prove that he won, the only way for him to show Dream that he had lost, was for him to be happy. And he wanted Dream to know that he would be.

So Sam took him to the prison, and once they stepped through the gates his mask fell into place. He was no longer Sam, he was no longer the man who Tommy trusted, he couldn’t be. He had to be the Warden. He couldn’t let Sam into the prison, because if he did then he would never let Tommy step into the cell.

And he needed to, he needed this to heal. That didn’t meant he had to be happy about it.

The Warden couldn't stop himself from asking Tommy if he really wanted to do this. Sam internally pled for Tommy to say that this was a mistake, that they should just go home and work on the hotel. Unfortunately, this was Tommy, the most stubborn kid he had ever met, and he felt as if he had something to prove.

So it shook him slightly when Tommy’s stubborn demeanor disappeared, replaced with a look of sincerity he rarely saw from the kid. Then Tommy did something even more unexpected.

He thanked him. Thanked him for being there for him. Sam choked on his words. Tommy had never told him he cared about him too. Sam never expected him to. But this was the closest he’d gotten. 

He told him he was thankful, that he was grateful for everything Sam had done for him. Sam wanted to scream, to cry, he wanted to tell Tommy that he he shouldn’t thank him, that he would always be there.

He wanted to tell Tommy to get the hell out of the prison and never look back, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t be Sam. He had to be the Warden.

So despite every instinct in his body telling him to stop, despite the unrelenting urges to take Tommy and get out of the prison, he watched the small platform grow smaller and smaller as Tommy neared Dream.

When the lava fell once again Sam rushed to the security camera. He had to make sure that Dream didn’t try and get into Tommy’s head again, he had to be ready in case Tommy came out of the visit shaken.

He watched the interaction with pride.

Dream had broken Tommy. He had torn him apart relentlessly, plucked pieces away from him, and beat him to the ground until he no longer had the energy to get back up. 

But despite all of his talk about being a god, despite him claiming to know everyone’s place on the server, despite the superiority he claimed to have, he had still made the exact same mistake that everyone on this server did.

He underestimated Tommy. 

He had thought that just because he had broken him in exile that Tommy was done for. He didn’t account for Tommy being able to put himself back together. Tommy’s perseverance and grit forced him to sow up the unhealed wounds, it forced him to get back up off the ground every damn time he was pushed down.

He forced himself to get better, to get stronger, he forced himself to heal.

As the conversation seemed to near a close, Sam was getting ready to bring the lava back down. He didn’t want Tommy to have to be in there a second longer than he had to. The second he wanted out of the prison, Sam would be waiting.

He would finally be free, he would finally—

An explosion wracked the building, a small echo amongst the indestructible structure, but an attack nonetheless.

Sam’s immediate instinct was to get Tommy out of the prison. He wanted to drag Tommy out of the prison, rip him away from the monster and simply go home. But he couldn’t be Sam right now, he had to be the Warden.

He rushed to the outside of the prison, sword ready in hand. He would kill whoever dared mess with his prison. If they were trying to hurt Tommy—if they were trying to free Dream, he would make sure they had a cell right next to him.

When he got to the sight of the explosion he saw no one and nothing. The only remnant of the explosion was a horrid hole that sat by the prison. There was nothing in it, no sign of who might have done this, no clue as to what caused it.

But it was a security breach.

It was an attack on the prison.

Tommy couldn’t leave.

And he had to be the one to enforce it.

The realization of what he had to do fell heavy on his shoulders. He had to leave Tommy in there.

He stumbled back into the prison, his footsteps dragging across the cold floor. Each step echoed across the massive chamber. He forced himself to trudge back to the cell. He had to watch the security cameras, he had to make sure the prisoner was still accounted for. He had to run the prison.

For the first time the prison didn't feel beautiful.

It didn’t feel like a gift, or a blessing.

It felt like a curse.

_“Sam!”_ A desperate voice cried, pain leeching through the words. The echo rang out through the room, and Sam felt tears start to cloud his vision. He clenched his fists, his breaths quickening as his vision blurred. 

_“Phil!”_

Sam nearly screamed. He grit his teeth, nails digging into the skin of his palms. He couldn't be there for him, he had broken his promise to Tommy. He wanted wrap Tommy in his arms, he wanted to tell him that he was there. He promised he would be there. He didn’t leave him.

He wanted to be there.

But he wasn’t.

So Tommy had naturally turned to his next best option. Even if said next best option was nowhere to be found, and hadn't been since he destroyed one of the only things his son loved.

Sam still hated himself for not doing anything.

Tommy’s frantic texts soon came one after another, each one forcing a new wave of pain over Sam. Fear seeped into his bones as he realized that Tommy’s communicator would probably lose connection soon.

He would lose all ability to contact him. He had to reassure him, he had to tell him that he was coming, he had to tell him that he was going to be okay. He wanted to fill the screen with reassurances, promises that he would do his best to keep.

Sam had to be there for him.

But he wasn’t Sam right now. He couldn’t let himself be Sam. If he allowed himself to be Sam, then he knew that he would answer any demand, obey any request, as long as it meant he got Tommy back. 

But he couldn’t do that. 

He couldn’t release an evil god back into the world of his creation, he couldn’t allow the puppet-master to regain control of the show. He couldn’t let everyone else suffer like Tommy had. He knew that isn’t what Tommy would want. He knew that Tommy would want him to do anything to protect the sever.

That didn’t make him feel better.

He had to protect the prison; he had to protect the server. 

He had to be the Warden.

His hands shook frantically, numbly pressing the buttons on his communicator. 

“ _You’re going to have to hang tight, Tommy. The prison is on lockdown. There has been a security issue.”_

There.

Succinct. To the point. Professional.

It’s what had to be done. 

That didn’t stop him from throwing his communicator across the wall, the small crack resonating through the obsidian chamber. It didn’t stop him from throwing his fist against the wall repeatedly until the sharp pain faded to a dull throb; it didn’t stop him from getting angry.

He had been mad in Dream’s lair, he had gotten angry at all of Dream’s tales of exile, but he had never in his life felt such a helpless fury.

He wanted to claw at the walls, rip at his skin; he wanted to burn down the prison and scorn the world for what it did to Tommy, what it was still doing to him. He wanted to scream and yell and fight. For the first time ever, he wanted to explode.

He registered the smell of gunpowder lingering in the air, he registered the sparks starting to bounce off of him, he _had_ to calm down. He couldn’t blow up. He had to be here when Tommy got out.

He imagined Tommy rushing out of the prison, a bit shaken, but still strong. He imagined seeing a Tommy that had made it through, a Tommy that was still ready to start his new life.

He had to be there. He had to calm down.

He felt his breaths even out, allowed a small sigh to escape his lips as the smell of gunpowder slowly dissipated from the air.

But without the smell of smoke, or the threat of an explosion, he felt numb. The anger was gone, leaving instead an echo of hollowness that echoed throughout the room, that echoed throughout him.

He sank to the ground, cradling his head in his hands. The mask of warden slowly slipped from his face, revealing nothing but an ordinary man. A man that was terrified for his son. 

“I’m so sorry,” He whispered, “Tommy, you can make it through this. You are so strong, I know you can do this. I promise I’ll find whoever did this, and then I promise I will get you out of there. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided this story is going to mostly just be about Tommy being trapped in the prison with Dream and how everyone reacts to it. It will be chronological and will detail a lot more about Tommy's interactions with Dream in the prison, but at some point I will also probably give a Phil, Techno, and Tubbo POV.
> 
> If you want, however, this can be read as a complete two shot.
> 
> If you liked it feel free to leave a kudos or comment. Comments really do make my day and I love hearing what you guys have to say!
> 
> EDIT 3/6:   
> Listen. Listen. From this point on, this is not canon. In the slightest. Like at all. If you want it to still be kind of canon two shot on Tommy's time in prison (before...um...ya know and then the uno reverse card), then feel free to stop now. Thanks for reading. But this story will not have any of the dead/revived Tommy, or Techno and Phil not really caring, or whatever else makes me angry in canon...which is a lot.
> 
> However it will have more awesamdad and a canon sbi fam dynamic. Which I desperately need after today's stream.


	3. A Father's Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Phil,” Sam bit out, teeth grit, but voice still level, “Tommy did nothing even remotely illegal. There was an attack on the prison will he was visiting Dream, so for security reasons we have to leave him in there for the next week, or until the threat is neutralized.”
> 
> “Oh,” Phil said simply, still unsure of his own emotions regarding the situation, “Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s stubborn, that’s for sure. Anyways, I have to get some healing potions, do you—”
> 
> Sam barked out a few notes of calm, broken laughter, “Are you serious? I tell you that your son is locked in prison with his abuser—“
> 
> “Abuser?”
> 
> “—that he’ll be stuck there for a week, and you simply move on to the next item on your list?! You don’t even care!”
> 
> OR
> 
> Phil hears about Tommy being locked in the prison and is forced to reflect on his parenting choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The c!Phil POV. Yay?

“For an anime protagonist, your fighting skills are surprisingly lacking,” Techno drawled, smirking slightly as Ranboo fiddled with a sword.

Ranboo shrugged, “I’ve never really been an avid supporter of violence.” The sword looked unnatural in the hybrid’s hands, as if he was fighting the instinct to run away from the weapon. Phil nearly laughed at the contrast between him and Techno, who only ever looked natural with a weapon in hand.

“Lame.” Techno mocked, expertly twirling his sword in his hand. Ranboo’s eyes widened slightly at the display, nervously turning towards Phil.

“Techno,” Phil warned affectionately, “Be nice.”

Techno grumbled something under his breath, but moved to show Ranboo how to properly hold the sword. Phil smiled at the sight, Techno seemed to be warming up to Ranboo rather quickly. That was good. Techno needed someone else he could trust, especially after Tommy.

He cringed as the thought of his youngest son entered his mind. He didn’t like thinking about him. The pain of his callous betrayal still hurt to think about. But he didn’t need to think about Tommy, he had Techno and Ranboo. He didn’t need to bother with his youngest. Not anymore.

“Hey, Phil, I could use your help to teach Ranboo today. Judging by the total lack of skill we’re working with, he’ll probably need some work.” Techno tried to sound monotonous, but a small laugh escaped his lips at the end of the sentence.

“Hey,” Ranboo protested, “I’m not completely awful.”

Techno raised an eyebrow, “You are not the worst fighter I’ve ever had to train. But that’s not exactly a high bar to clear.”

Ranboo barked out a laugh and Phil chuckled. Phil knew he was most likely talking about Wilbur. 

Wilbur had always been such spectacular. He could defuse a lit situation with a few well placed murmurings, incite a revolution with one speech; he had torn down empires and built up kingdoms with nothing more than his voice.

And yet, despite all of that, he was helpless with a weapon.

The memory of Techno trying to teach Wilbur sword fighting always brought a bitter-sweet smile to his face. He didn’t like thinking about Wilbur either, it used to fill his gut with rocks and his heart with knives.

But the pain had started to dull over time. It was slightly better now that he knew he had avenged his son by destroying L’Manburg. He had torn down the country that had broken his son.

Ghostbur might not have understood, but he knew that if Wilbur were here he would. He would've understood.

At least that’s what he liked to tell himself.

He shook his head, clearing all thought of Wilbur from his head. He had other people in his life now. He couldn’t spend time dwelling on the son he no longer had.

He had to focus on the ones he did.

Ranboo and Techno.

They were the only ones who mattered.

The other one just wasn’t worth it anymore. He’d betrayed Techno, he’d betrayed him. He might have been his son, but that didn't mean that Phil had to be his father. He had more important things to worry about than the child who brought chaos wherever he went.

“Sorry, Tech, but I can’t help train today. I’ve got a few errands to run in the SMP. I should be back by sunset, though.” 

Techno rolled his eyes, “Feel free to burn something down for me while you’re there.”

“Or, you know, don’t do that.” Ranboo suggested nervously.

Phil chuckled, “I don’t necessarily think I’m in a terrorism kind of mood.”

“Boring!” Techno jeered.

Phil simply raised an eyebrow, and Techno immediately backed down.

“I meant it must be so boring to have to do all of these chores because you are such a phenomenally interesting person.”

“Better.”

Ranboo simply laughed, causing Techno to throw a mock-glare his way. At Ranboo’s dismal attempt to conceal his laughter, Techno simply sighed. He shook his head, a small chuckle echoing in his throat.

“Well, have a nice trip, Phil,” He turned back towards Ranboo, a sadistically determinedlook on his face, “Maybe get a few extra healing potions while you’re in town. We’re going to need them.”

Ranboo’s face blanched as Phil laughed, “Will do!”

He waved goodbye once more before he huddled closer into his cape and started his journey back to the main SMP. The cold didn’t particularly bother him much, not anymore. Maybe it had at one point, but the numbing effects of the cold had dulled overtime. He had gotten used to it.

Still, he missed the warmth that his wings gave him. They were still mangled, burned and torn from the explosions wracked by Wilbur on L’manburg. On instinct, he had moved to protect his son, and in saving him he had sacrificed his wings.

It was a sacrifice made in vain however, as that cursed, infected country forced his son into madness. It was that madness that forced the sword through his chest, that forced him to hold his son as he took his final breath.

His son sacrificed everything to take down that country, and then they built it back up again. Corruption and disease grew with the country, infecting everyone and everything around him.

He’d had to destroy it.

He’d had no other choice.

But Tommy had to go and ruin it.

Out of all his sons, Tommy is the one he was the most disappointed in. He chose the country that had done nothing but betray him, done nothing but exile him and kill him, over his family. 

He had to stay mad at Tommy. He was in the wrong, and he couldn't even begin to think otherwise.

Techno had been there for Tommy when no one else was. Techno didn’t have to do that, he didn’t have to take in the sniveling child that had been living in his basement, the same child who he felt had betrayed him, but he did.

He barely even knew Tommy, and yet he did it anyways.

Phil and Techno had started out on their adventures when Tommy was only six, so Phil never really had a chance to get to know him, not until he turned 16.

It hadn’t been a happy sight when they decided to leave. Wilbur had thrown around words like _abandonment_ and _neglect_. But he just didn’t understand. What Phil and Techno had done was necessary.

Occasionally his mind would supply the look of hopelessness in Tommy’s eyes when he walked out the door. He would remember the venom dripping from Wilbur’s words, the first sparks of hatred twisting behind his eyes.

But he’d had to train Techno. He could feel the monsters that lurked beneath Techno’s skin. He couldn’t allow his eldest to fall prey to the voices. He would give up everything for Techno, and he had.

Sure, that meant that Wilbur had to raise Tommy.

Sure, that meant that Wilbur never looked at him the same way again.

Sure, that meant that he’d never had a chance to truly know his youngest son.

But it was worth it.

Techno needed him, and so he had been there.

He forced his thoughts away from the area, it was dangerous territory that he didn’t care to dwell on for very long. He instead chose to focus on Techno and Ranboo, hopefully Techno hadn’t accidentally decapitated him yet.

He didn’t necessarily know how long he'd been walking, but before he knew it he had made it to the SMP. His mind was still locked on the image of the frighteningly likely possibility of Ranboo being maimed, when was jolted from his stupor by someone running into his shoulder.

“Ey, watch it.” Phil muttered, brow raising once he saw Sam. Sam usually kept to himself, and when he was out in the main SMP it was usually with Tommy, not that he was objecting to not seeing his son.

“Sorry.” Sam bit out, disinterest leeching from his words. Phil had never seen Sam so out of sorts. He looked like shit. His face was blotchy, his hair was mussed, and his crown was titled on the side of his head. Phil had never seen the Warden look anything less than stoic, so seeing him like this almost felt like an intrusion.

“Mate, you okay?” Phil asked, moving to set a hand on his shoulder.

“No, Phil, I am not okay.” Sam told him tersely, his voice was tight and scratched, as if he had been screaming, “But I have bigger problems to deal with today than your bull shit, so please leave me be.”

“Hey!” Phil protested, “That’s not fair.”

Sam chuckled darkly, “Phil. I don't know how else to put this: I am not in the mood. I don’t need any of your baseless justifications for your war criminal son, I don’t need to listen to you paint yourself as a victim, and I don’t need to listen to any of your complaints about Tommy. I don’t care.”

Phil gawked at him. That was insane, he would never—Sam had it all wrong. 

“Now,” Sam started, shaking his head, interrupting him before Phil had a chance to choke out any words, “While you're here, I assume that as the _legal_ guardian of Tommy I am obliged to inform you that he has been locked in the prison for security purposes.” The word legal was laced with bitterness, as if Sam hated the way it felt on his tongue.

Phil sighed, of course Tommy had found a way to get himself thrown in jail, it had only been a matter of time,“God, Sam, what did he do this time? You know I’m not responsible for him anymore—“

“Phil,” Sam bit out, teeth grit, but voice still level, “Tommy did nothing even remotely illegal. There was an attack on the prison will he was visiting Dream, so for security reasons we have to leave him in there for the next week, or until the threat is neutralized.”

“Oh,” Phil said simply, still unsure of his own emotions regarding the situation, “Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s stubborn, that’s for sure. Anyways, I have to get some healing potions, do you—”

Sam barked out a few notes of calm, broken laughter, “Are you serious? I tell you that your son is locked in prison with his abuser—“

“Abuser?”

“—that he’ll be stuck there for a week, and you simply move on to the next item on your list?! You don’t even care!”

“Of course I care!” Phil spat, his anger rising, “I love Tommy—“

“No you don’t.” Sam argued, “Don’t stand here and say you love that kid when we both know that you’ve never done anything but ignore him.” There was a very obvious smell of gun powder in the air, thickening by the moment. 

Phil’s eyes darkened, “He is my son.”

“No,” Sam hissed, “He’s mine.”

The smell of gunpowder disappeared, as Sam’s eyes widened slightly. He took a step away from Phil, but made no move to take back what he said. If anything he stood a little bit straighter, as if he was proud.

Phil stood shock still, it was as if every part of his body had shut down, he couldn’t walk or speak, it was even becoming difficult to breathe. His mind was whirling, blacking out, his vision was clouding, it was an experience he had only ever encountered when feeling blinding rage. But he wasn’t angry, though, at least he didn’t think he was. 

This wasn’t like the times when he had blacked out on the battle field, only to wake up with Techno grinning next to him and corpses littering the ground. He just felt empty.

It was as if he’d had this hole inside of him, and instead of trying to fill it, he had simply ignored it, allowing it to consume more and more of him. There had been a wound splitting him apart ever since Doomsday, he’d just refused to acknowledge it.

His insides ripped open as he finally allowed himself to fall prey to the feelings he had been so desperately trying to suppress.

He missed Tommy.

He hadn’t gotten to watch Tommy grow up when he was little, but he had relished in helping him explore the man he was becoming. Phil had loved getting to know his son, he’d loved training with him, and he’d loved relaxing with him. He’d grown to love Tommy fiercely. Every moment Phil had gotten to spend with him had made him feel part of that fire that always burned inside Tommy.

But then he’d betrayed them and felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. He couldn’t love Tommy after that, he couldn’t let himself, he owed it to Techno.

Did he?

Tommy was his son, after all. And he had loved him.

But he'd never told him.

He’d never even told Tommy that he loved him.

He hadn’t even cared, had he? Did it even matter?

He could've helped Tommy, he could've made sure he was safe, and he could’ve been there for him. But he threw it away in favor of Techno’s revenge, in favor of Wilbur’s honor, in favor of Ranboo’s health.

He had failed as a parent.

“I—“ Phil started, words catching in his throat, “I’m sorry.”

Sam nodded tersely, the hesitant anger on his face having faded to a helpless exhaustion.

“I know.” Sam said simply.

They stood there for a moment, allowing the words they had spoken to settle into the air. They couldn’t be taken back. It only now struck Phil that he had lost another child.

“If it helps,” Sam uttered eventually, “Tommy did call for you. When he was trapped, he called for you to save him. When he felt all hope was lost, when even I didn’t let him out, the one person he trusted more than anyone to protect him was you.”

Phil choked on air, his lungs constricting in his chest as his breath escaped him.

“Take care, Phil.” Sam said, an air of finality settling around them.

Sam walked away, leaving Phil standing at the edge of the L’manburg crater. He had barely even registered that he was here. It didn't look like such a victory anymore. The euphoric joy he had experience while destroying the country echoed around his mind.

He was almost ashamed by it.

For the first time since Doomsday, he felt tears flood his vision. They streamed down his face silently as he knelt at the edge of the crater. It was covered by glass now, he wondered who had done that.

He stayed until it got dark, simply staring at the void in front of him. The void that he had helped create. He had destroyed one of the only things his son loved, the only thing that reminded him of the man who raised him; worse, he had sided with his _abuser_ to do it.

He had seen some of the signs of exile in Tommy. He had seen the dullness of his eyes, the waning of his inner fire, but he had always chosen to ignore them. He didn’t want to confront the fact that another of his kids had been broken, so he had simply pretended he was whole.

He had seen his son drowning, but instead of throwing him a rope, instead of dragging him back to shore, he had simply helped hold his head under the water for. He had told himself that Tommy deserved this, that he did it to himself. But he was wrong.

Tommy was 16.

He was his son.

Did he even have a right to say that anymore?

Phil faintly registered Techno’s hand on his shoulder.

“Phil,” The voice rang through his head, familiar, yet loose in his mind, “Phil, you never came home. Ranboo’s back there worried sick. What happened? Are you hurt? Who did this, I swear—”

“No one did anything.” Phil whispered, “I—I never did anything.”

“What? Phil, you’re not making any sense.”

“I failed.” Phil whispered.

Techno tilted his head in confusion, “You’ve never failed, Phil. You’ve won every battle, slain every monster—“

“I failed Tommy.”

Techno stopped abruptly, an indiscernible emotion crossing his face.

“…Oh.”

Techno didn’t say anything more, he simply took a seat next to Phil and joined him in staring at the remnants of L’manburg. They gazed at the broken pieces of the country they shattered, and Phil thought of the boy that had been left to break along with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this one was interesting to write. c!Phil really needs to shape up, but maybe he will. Maybe. Idk at this point.
> 
> Anyways, next chapter is probably going to be Technoblade POV or checking back in with Tommy in the clink.
> 
> If you liked it feel free to leave a kudos or comment!


	4. A Golden Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sword fell limp in Technoblade’s hand as his thoughts whirred, “What do you mean Tommy’s stuck in the prison?”
> 
> “I assumed Phil would’ve told you,” There was a hint of bitterness in Sam’s voice, “However, I am under no obligation to inform you of—“
> 
> Sam stopped talking at the tip of the sword dug into his neck.
> 
> “I’d start talking if I were you.” Technoblade growled, “Besides if you could tell Phil, I certainly have a right to know.” I was the one was there for him. The words were left unsaid, but they both heard them. Sam’s eyes widened slightly at the implication, before the surprise faded into something akin to understanding.
> 
> Technoblade didn’t much care for it.

Techno had been forced to half-drag Phil back to the cabin. He didn’t really know what had happened, but for some reason Phil was mourning the betrayal of Tommy. Or at least that’s what he assumed, Phil hadn’t said a word since he had told him he’d failed Tommy. Whatever that meant.

After Doomsday, he’d been surprised how apathetic Phil had been to Tommy’s betrayal, but he had just assumed it was a result of Phil never knowing Tommy. Not that Technoblade had always been the best older brother, but he had been there for Tommy. And despite himself, he had grown to care for the boy who was supposed to be his brother.

He just assumed that losing Tommy had hurt him much more than it had Phil.

He might’ve been wrong.

Maybe Phil had been shoving down all the sadness, hurt, and anger he felt. The way he looked now, broken and unsure and fragile. It was how Technoblade felt after Tommy went back to L’manburg. He could see why Phil wanted nothing more than to bury those emotions.

He understood that. 

Repressing emotions had always been easier than confronting them head on. Most of the time, however, the voices forced him to confront whatever it was he was feeling. Whether he wanted to or not.

_Ranboo’s waiting!! Help Phil! Go back!! Find Tommy! Sam!! POG. oooh. Dadza!_

The voices hadn't been quiet today, but he’d been able to push them aside to train Ranboo. Although, the voices had come back full force during the hour rest he’d allowed Ranboo to take.

The kid hadn’t asked to be given one, but he’d been limping and sore, and obviously hated training, despite his claims otherwise. So Techno had cut him some slack.

The voices decided he was going soft, letting the boy take an hour off to go do…well, whatever it was that kid did. He’d decided the voices were stupid. Him? Going soft? Not even the voices could be right all the time.

He was really just seeing if the kid had the determination to come back to training. He knew how tempting it could be to stop. To give up. He hadn’t known what he’d expected from Ranboo.

He’d come back.

It’d been a good morning. 

He thought the rest of the day could’ve been spent with Phil and Ranboo, doing anything they wanted.

Then Phil didn’t come home. They’d waited for an hour, two, then Techno had went to find him. The voices had been surprisingly quiet then too, as if they were diverting all of their attention to looking for Phil _._

When he’d found him, he’d felt anger flood his vision, the constant urge for blood raging inside him once again. He knew that he would kill whoever did this, slay them where they stood.

And yet he’d sat next to Phil. Phil, who had never once mentioned Tommy to him, brought up his youngest. He’d said he failed him. Techno hadn’t know what to say, he’d just known that Phil needed him.

The voices had agreed.

As he sat with Phil, overlooking the crater of L’manburg, he felt their familiar presence rattling inside his mind.

_Sadza :( :( :( Help him!!! He’s trapped. Dadza?? Talk to Sam! Prison arc pog. o7. E E E._

He never really knew what most of the voices meant, but today had really been the first time any of them had ever mentioned Sam. Did the creeper hybrid have something to do with this? Was he the one who hurt Phil?

He shook the thoughts from his head. He would kill whoever did this to Phil, and if it was Sam, then he could expect a sword through his chest, but right now his father needed him. He had to be there.

Techno didn't know how long they had sat there, but he did know Phil hadn’t said a word. He’d simply stared at the crater through the glass, a few stray tears occasionally slipping down his face.

He needed time. Luckily, Techno was a very patient person; he would give him as much as he needed.

It wasn’t an easy journey to the mainlands of the SMP, it was even harder having to carry a full-grown hybrid on your back. But Techno had barely even broken a sweat. The journey had become second nature to him, and he had supported many fallen soldiers on his back before.

When Techno finally pushed open the door that led to their cabin, he was greeted by the sight of Ranboo huddling in on himself by the fire. He was anxiously rubbing his hands, eyes darting back and forth. When the sound of the open door reached his ears, Ranboo shrieked and fell right off the chair

“Phil! Techno!” Ranboo cried, jumping up and running to them both. He still limped slightly, and Techno smiled at the memory of the day’s training session. Ranboo wasn’t a natural fighter, but he was a smart kid. He picked up most of the motions fairly quickly, and was certainly willing to try. He was a good kid. Despite himself, Techno liked him.

“I thought—I thought something bad had happened! Are you—Is Phil okay? Phil, are you okay?” Ranboo sputtered, worriedly glancing down at the older man.

Phil looked up at Ranboo, smiling sadly, but no words came out of his throat.

“Phil is, uh, indisposed at the moment. But he’ll be fine.” Techno heaved a deep sigh, staring down at Phil, “Eventually. Could you get him to bed?”

“What about you?” Ranboo asked, taking the older man in his arms. Ranboo struggled under the weight of him, but managed to find his footing.

Techno took a gleaming netherite sword out from his holster, smiling as the enchantments glinted off the purple metal, “I have to go pay someone a visit.”

Techno knew where Sam’s house was. He knew where most everything was on this server. He was prepared for all potential battle scenarios, and that required a complete and total knowledge of the area.

A knowledge that he insured he possessed.

It was pitch-black outside, so he felt no need to keep to the shadows or use an invisibility potion. Besides, if anyone saw him they would most likely run in the other direction. Being feared did have its perks, after all.

He found his eyes drawn to a collection of lights in front of a building. There were no other lights blinking in the SMP, which made the collection of torches in front of the Big Innit hotel even more visible.

Techno smiled slightly at the hotel. He might not exactly be fond of Tommy at the moment, but even he could admit that it was a sight to behold. It was also commendable that Tommy had finally decided to dedicate himself to a peaceful endeavor, one free from the claws of government, not that he would ever tell him that.

“The Big Jack Manifold Hotel?” Techno read monotonously, glaring at the unseemly poster that blighted the hotels grandiose structure.

_Nothing stops the Jack Manifold grind!!! Poor Tommy :( Sam Nook?? Blood for the blood god!! Kill Jack pls._

“Not for long,” A voice muttered from the doorway into the hotel, “It belongs to Tommy, whether Jack likes it or not.” Techno swiftly drew his sword, pointing it at the presence a few mere steps from him.

“Sam.” He greeted tersely.

“Technoblade.” He echoed in the same tone, apprehensively eyeing the netherite sword, “What do you want? It’s quite late, you know.”

“And yet you’re not asleep,” he deadpanned. He took a moment to take in Sam’s horrid appearance, “Even though you obviously need the rest.” 

“I can’t sleep yet.” Sam whispered, exhaustion slipping into his voice, “I have work to do.”

“In that case, I don’t need to take up too much of your time.” Technoblade turned the sword in his hand, watching as Sam’s eyes followed the shimmering point, “Just tell me what happened to Phil, and I’ll be on my way.”

That was a lie. If Sam had hurt Phil in anyway he would plunge the sword into his stomach and mercilessly watch as the light drained from his eyes. He fought a smile at the thought.

But they weren't there yet.

Sam’s face fell as a wave of emotion seemed to come over him, “I simply informed him of Tommy being stuck in the prison. He must’ve not taken it well.”

_OOOH. Lore lore lore. POG. Roommates arc lol. Exile 2.0 lmao. SAVE TOMMY!! Let him rot._

The sword fell limp in Technoblade’s hand as his thoughts whirred, “What do you mean Tommy’s _stuck in the prison_?”

“I assumed Phil would’ve told you,” There was a hint of bitterness in Sam’s voice, “However, I am under no obligation to inform you of—“

Sam stopped talking at the tip of the sword dug into his neck.

“I’d start talking if I were you.” Technoblade growled,“Besides if you could tell Phil, I certainly have a right to know.” _I was the one was there for him._ The words were left unsaid, but they both heard them. Sam’s eyes widened slightly at the implication, before the surprise faded into something akin to understanding.

Technoblade didn’t much care for it.

Sam sighed, “I guess the truth from me is better than the lies you’re bound to hear from Jack.”

Technoblade raised an eyebrow, but Sam waved him off. Technoblade didn’t pry. He didn’t necessarily consider Jack Manifold to be that big of a problem. And if he became one, well, Technoblade had quite a few weapons that could act as a solution.

A look of sorrow crossed Sam’s face as he began his story, “Tommy was visiting Dream in prison, for the last time, actually. But then an explosion went off and, as the Warden, I had to activate security measures. I—I had to lock Tommy in the prison. With Dream.”

If he’d been any less disciplined, the sword would’ve fallen right out of Techno’s hand. He’d seen how Tommy had reacted to even the mention of Dream back when—back when they’d had common interests.

“What?” Techno asked, his voice hollow. Tommy couldn’t be stuck in the prison with Dream. Everything Tommy had done had been to try and heal himself from the damage Dream had inflicted on him, if he was stuck with the man, well, he didn’t know what could happen.

Sam simply nodded, “I know.” 

Techno’s grip on his sword tightened as he glared at Sam, “How could you just leave him in there?!” He spat, eyes darkening.

Sam looked up at him, surprise coloring his features, “What? What do you—“

“I don’t know what Dream did to him in exile. But I do know that Tommy should never have to be stuck with him again!” He remembered the flinches. The nightmares. The husk of a boy that had lost his fire.

It couldn’t happen again.

“It’s what Tommy would’ve wanted!” Sam protested, stepping away from Techno’s sword.

“He shouldn't have to keep sacrificing himself for this SMP.” Technoblade sneered, “He shouldn’t have to be the one to give up everything.”

“I know that!” Sam spat, malice dripping from his words, “You think I don’t know that he deserves better? Of course I know that, I’m the one trying to give it to him!”

Technoblade stayed silent, choosing to observe Sam’s outrage. Or, Sam's much calmer, creeper version of outrage. It was the kind of anger that Phil had shown for him, shown for Wilbur. It was the rage of a father. Techno was only surprised he hadn't noticed it sooner.

“He can’t be let out the prison yet.” Sam choked out, “We have to make sure the prisoner does not escape.”

Rage pooled in Techno’s stomach, “Speak for yourself.”

He owed Dream a favor, he knew that. And after he had mysteriously been ‘busy’ on the day of the disk confrontation, he figured breaking him out of jail would pay his favor up nicely. And if Tommy happened to escape as well, that was just a coincidence.

“Technoblade,” Sam started, his face hardening, “If you are suggesting that you plan on attempting to break into the prison—“

“Of course not.” Techno waved him off monotonously, “That would be insane!”

“Good. Because the prison is impenetrable. The schematics of it can only be operated by me, and while it in inescapable, it is also impossible to break into,” Sam raised an eyebrow at Technoblade, “If someone were to hypothetically break into the prison, it would take even the most dedicated individual months to understand the blueprints completely. By then Tommy would be out of the prison.”

“I have to—“

“No, you don’t.” Sam interrupted, ice lacing his words, “You don't get to be the one to let him out. After everything you have put this kid through, you don't get to tell me that what I'm doing, what I am being for ced to do, is wrong!”

Techno peered at Sam for a moment, “You are sacrificing the freedom that Tommy rightfully deserves, all so that you can continue to delude yourself that the server is safe from Dream. Dream is going to escape, it’s inevitable. He’s a god; a cell, no matter how brilliantly crafted, can only hold him for so long.”

“Tommy, however,” Techno continued, “Is not a god, he’s a kid. He doesn’t deserve this.”

Sam laughed hollowly, “ ‘ _He doesn’t deserve this.’_ That means a lot coming from you. You blew up his country, you killed his best friend, you used him as a tool to fuel your own dreams of anarchy!”

“He betrayed me!” Techno growled, “I gave him shelter, food, clothing. I took him in when his country, his best friend, everyone, betrayed him. I never used him as a tool! I cared about him! I was never going to force him to blow up L’manburg—“

“But you were going to do it anyways!” Sam cried, anger slipping into his voice, “No matter how much you may have cared about him, your goals came first. Don’t stand there and tell me you told Tommy about your plans upfront! Don’t tell me that you didn’t manipulate his anger, redirecting it towards the country that Wilbur built and Tubbo ran! You are not the victim in this story, Technoblade.”

A silence echoed across the SMP, Technoblade and Sam simply stared at each other, allowing the silence to blanket the Earth. Rage simmered in the air, and Technoblade could feel the blood rush in his veins, he could the metallic tang of blood in the air. It would only take one movement, one slick jab, and Sam would be dead at his feet.

_BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! WE ARE NOT VICTIMS! BE THE BAD GUY!_

The voices split his head, shaking his mind. As much as he wanted to obey, to give in. He wouldn't. He couldn’t listen to them right now. He couldn't kill Sam. If he was right, if it was Sam was who Tommy needed, then he couldn’t kill him. Not yet at least.

“The country was broken.” Technoblade spat instead, “It wasn’t what Wilbur had built it to be, and in it’s collapse, it was dragging Tubbo down with it. Power does nothing but corrupt, governments do nothing but sour the inhabitants, and L’manburg was no different. That country was what broke Tommy, and it was that country that broke this server.”

“That country poisoned all of them,” Technoblade continued, “It killed Wilbur, put Phil on house arrest, isolated Ranboo, ignored Niki, forced Tubbo into a role he wasn’t ready for, and it exiled Tommy! Governments cause nothing but pain. Thinking otherwise is nothing more than clinging onto false hope.”

“You’re not telling lies,” Sam whispered, anger dissipated as he peered at Technoblade, “But you’re ignoring the whole truth. L’manburg was infected, yes, but it was Dream that poisoned the country. He exiled Tommy, he made Tubbo crack under the pressure of president, he teamed up with you to blow it up. I understand that L’manburg was broken, but it could’ve been healed." Sam got a contemplative look in his eyes, "Maybe Tommy could’ve fixed the country, but you denied him that chance.”

Techno's anger disippaited. The voice of a different brother filling his head. He frowned, “Wilbur told him once that he’d never be President.”

Sam nodded, “I guess he was right.”

Techno loosened his grip on his sword as he peered at Sam. “I never wanted him to get hurt. I tried to warn him not to become a hero, but that damn kid." Technobalde laughed somberly, "He just can never stop fighting.”

“No,” Sam murmured fondly, “He can’t.”

A short silence fell over them. The voices calmed down, the moment for blood had passed, replaced by a quiet acceptance of Sam. The voices didn’t hate him, some of them even liked him.

He could obviously see that Sam cared about Tommy, and Tommy most likely cared about him. Part of Techno just wished Tommy cared about him too.

“Tommy was pissed at you for blowing up L’manburg. He was so mad,” Sam said with a small laugh. Technoblade frowned at the memory of Tommy in the destruction of L'manburg. Yes, he had gotten satisfaction in seeing the country burn. But he had never wanted Tommy to burn with it.

“Yeah, I got that—“ 

“But,” Sam stressed, “Some part of him understood why you did what you did. He knew that he'd hurt you, and despite his love for the country, I think he knew that it wasn’t completely whole anymore. Maybe that was one of the reasons he would give his life for it. It was just as broken as he was.”

“I don’t know if Tommy will ever be able to truly realize that.” Techno grumbled, "He's got too much WIilbur in him."

Sam shook his head, a small smile on his face,“He hasn't tried to start another country. He’s building a hotel. A place that isn’t a country, it’s just a place where everyone can go. No laws. No rules. Just peace. He doesn’t really want to start another government.” Sam shrugged, "I think he's got quite a bit of you in him too."

Techno sighed, lowering his sword. Sam relaxed slightly, but raised a confused eyebrow.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Tommy’s a tough kid.” Techno told Sam, a steely glint in his eyes, “If you think that he can make it through this, well, I’m not going to maek trouble. But I saw what he was like just after exile. You have to promise me that you’ll be there.”

Sam cocked his head, “You really do care about him, don’t you?”

Technoblade smiled sadly, “He’s my brother, Sam. Of course I cared about him, but he only ever saw me as a weapon.”

“He never saw you as a weapon, Technoblade, he saw you as his _family_. He would always brag about how you were related, always with such pride. Such love. He cared about you, and as much as he hates it, he still does.”

Technoblade scoffed, but he couldn’t stop a small glimmer of warmth from spreading in his chest.

Sam smiled wearily, “You know he still sleeps with the Antarctic empire cloak?”

“What?”

“Yeah. Every night. It helps with his nightmares. He’ll never admit it, but it makes him feel safe,” Sam muttered, “You made him feel safe.”

Techno smiled, “I’m glad.”

Surprisingly he meant it.

_S O F T!! Technobro. Lame. SBI!! Phil and Ranboo!_

Right. Phil and Ranboo were still at the house. He couldn’t leave Ranboo alone with Phil, that was a burden that the kid didn’t need right now.

He coughed awkwardly, “So Phil just, uh—Phil just finally confronted everything, huh?”

Sam nodded, “If I had to take a guess, yeah. But I don’t know anything about your family, I don’t know what’s going on inside his head.” 

“Cool.” Techno muttered awkwardly. The urge to stab someone was gone. He realized that no one had hurt Phil, no one had injured his father. He had simply acknowledged the guilt that had been swirling inside him for all this time. That was a scar that would take longer to heal than any injury possibly could.

“Thank you,” Sam said, interrupting Techno's thoughts, “For being there for him, I mean. When no one else was there, you were. And I know that if he needs you, you will be again.”

Techno threw Sam a half smile, “he doesn't need me, he has you.”

“Yeah, he does," Sam murmured, "But that doesn't stop him from missing you."

Technoblade frowned, and turned to walk away. He should walk away. He should walk away and never look back. But he wasn't Phil, and he wasn't Wilbur.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

Technoblade took a breath, "Tell him I said hi.”

Sam smiled slightly, “No problem.”

Technoblade allowed his thoughts to wander as he trailed back to his cabin. Tommy was stuck in the prison. He was trapped with a madman who wanted desperately to take control of him, but he would get out.

Technoblade smiled to himself as he turned a golden apple in his hand.

Sam would be there for him when he got out.

But he wouldn’t be the only one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Techno POV pog. I don't know if you can tell, but part of me can't help but miss Techno and Tommy. 
> 
> Anyways, that's it for this chapter. If you liked it than kudos and comments are really appreciated!


	5. It's Not Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream let out a cruel laugh, tilting his head to stare at Tommy, “Did you really think that they wouldn’t see you for who you really are?”
> 
> “Stop it.” Tommy gripped his head frantically, as if he could shake the poisonous words from his mind. People cared about him, he knew that.
> 
> "They don’t know you, Tommy, and the ones who do left. They left the annoying child they all secretly hated, and they left the monster that they saw brimming beneath your skin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot darker. It goes back into some of Tommy's time in exile and touches on some of the abuse that he suffered. If you don't want to read that, then do not read this. I'll put a summary at the end, though, for those of you that still want to know what happens even if you don't read it.

In exile he’d always had room to think. Room to run away from the feelings that threatened to crash over him, room to cry and scream and panic and fight. No matter what happened, he could always walk away.

At least that’s what Dream had him believe.

Looking back on it, he wasn’t allowed in L’manburg, he wasn’t allowed on the SMP, he was told to stay on his little island. Everywhere else he was unwanted, unloved, the only place that was safe for him had been the small beach.

That’s what Dream had said.

He had called it an oasis.

Tommy now realized that even without the obsidian walls, or the lava cascading down the entrance, it had still been a prison.

“Come on, Tommy.” Dream prodded, a catlike grin on his face, “Talk to me.” He strolled around the small room, footsteps echoing throughout the chamber, “What are you thinking about?”

“How much of a little bitch you are.” Tommy spat. Dream’s grin seemed to widen, and Tommy found himself missing the mask that so carefully concealed his emotions.

He used to believe that he wore the mask to hide the human beneath, but he had started to wonder if the mask was just an attempt at concealing the true monster that lurked beneath his skin.

At least the mask led you to believe there was something under it. Tommy had always assumed there was. Maybe there wasn’t.

“Oooh, that one stings.” Dream mockingly threw a hand over his heart, “I really thought we were friends.”

“We were never friends. You were never my friend!” Tommy’s eyes clouded, the familiar memories of exile swirling in his mind, “All you ever wanted to do was hurt me.”

They’d had this conversation before. Multiple times. Dream kept bringing it up, trying to attack Tommy in different places, feeling for the weak spots he knew he could exploit. Tommy wouldn’t let him. He wouldn’t allow Dream to crawl back into his mind. Not again.

He would keep fighting him every step of the way.

Dream smiled condescendingly, as if he reteaching a lesson that Tommy should’ve gotten by now, “No, Tommy. I wanted to make you strong. I wanted to build you up, I wanted you to reach your full potential—”

“You took my armor! You hit me! You threatened to kill me! How is any of that _building me up?_ You are a fucking monster!” Tommy yelled, anger lacing his words, a small, broken laugh bubbled out of him as he sighed, “You are the reason that everything has happened. It’s all your fault!”

The words were familiar. They were what he’d been told, what he'd grown to realize was the truth that had been oh so cleverly concealed from him.

“Do you really believe that?” Dream asked, strolling over to stand right in front of Tommy. 

This was different.

In all of their attempted conversations in this prison, Dream had never gotten too close. But he took a step towards Tommy, so close that he could reach down and pat his head if he wanted to.

It was way too close.

Tommy should move to the other side of the room, walk away. But he couldn’t. Dream couldn’t see the fear that still swirled inside of him. He wouldn’t let him. He wasn’t scared. Not anymore.

So Tommy moved to back further into the wall, trying to keep his face full of anger. The fear wouldn’t show. The obsidian pressed into his back, poking at his skin. He was reminded of how close the walls were, how much smaller they were than anything he had ever experienced.

It was suffocating.

Especially with someone else so close.

Especially with _him._

“Do you really believe that I am the root of all of your problems? Did you really think that with me locked up in this hell of a prison that all of your fears would simply vanish?” He leaned in towards Tommy, “Did you really think that beating me would make people love you again?”

Tommy felt his head cloud. Not those words. Anything but those words.

“Shut up.” Tommy muttered, shaking his head.

Dream let out a cruel laugh, tilting his head to stare at Tommy, “Did you really think that they wouldn’t see you for who you really are?”

“Stop it.” 

Tommy gripped his head frantically, as if he could shake the poisonous words from his mind. People cared about him, he knew that.

_But they don’t truly know you._

_They don’t know you, Tommy, and the ones who do left. They left the annoying child they all secretly hated, they left the monster that they saw brimming beneath your skin._

“You burnt down George’s house for no reason, you tortured Fundy, you betrayed Technoblade and Philza, you refused to forgive poor little Tubbo, and, oh yeah, you value two shiny little objects more than everyone you supposedly love,” Dream grinned at Tommy, “Yet somehow I’m the monster?”

“Yes.” Tommy muttered, his voice wavering as he shook his head, “You—you’re—“

“I—I—I,” Dream mocked, laughing, “I’m what? Telling you the truth? Come on, Tommy. Think about it!! THINK ABOUT IT!”

Dream gripped Tommy’s hair, roughly yanking him to his feet. Tommy let out a grunt of pain as Dream threw him to the other side of the room. Tommy stumbled, but caught his footing in time to turn around and meet Dream’s gaze.

Not again. This was the prison, not exile. It wouldn’t be the same, he had told himself that it wouldn’t be the same.

“You know what you did was wrong,” Dream continued, “You knew that everyone would hate you for what you did, and yet you did it anyways! You try to paint yourself as the hero, but inside, deep down, you know you’re more of a villain that I am! You betray everyone you love time and time again, Tommy,—“

“And you don’t?” Tommy spat, anger filling his vision. He couldn’t let the doubt in, he couldn’t let the fear and insecurity and depression topple him. He had to stay above the water, he wouldn’t let himself drown.

This was not exile.

“Bad, Sapnap, _George._ You’ve hurt all of them, _time and time again_. You’ve hurt the only people on this planet stupid enough to care about you! And you didn’t even give a fuck!”

The mania on Dream’s face melted, pooling into an impassive mask. The grin was gone, replaced by total blankness. He observed Tommy, indiscernible thoughts dancing behind his eyes.

Tommy’s body clenched, knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists. He wouldn’t be surprised if his hands started bleeding. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Dream stared at him passively, emotions locked somewhere deep down inside of him. Tommy shuddered. He thought he would never miss that stupid mask, but looking at the blankness in Dream’s eyes he was starting to.

Dream quickly jerked his eyes to the upper corner of the room, before turning them back towards Tommy. He seemed to be considering something, weighing a set of options. Tommy followed his line of sight, but all he saw was obsidian.

Maybe Dream was just as broken as he was.

“Sit down, Tommy.” Dream stated cooly, walking towards the other corner of the room.

Tommy gaped at his back, fists slowly uncurling. Dream was just going to leave him alone? In exile, anytime he would even mention someone from the SMP, Dream would punish him.

He’d been beaten for mentioning Bad, burned for mentioning Sapnap, poisoned for mentioning George, but this time Dream was just going to walk away? 

He was just going to leave him be?

Tommy couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across his face. He must’ve struck a nerve, Dream must’ve finally realized that he was in the wrong! Maybe the monster still had a shred of guilt curled up inside of him.

This wasn't exile!

That meant that he had the advantage now. He’d been Dream’s punching bag for so damn long, maybe he could finally get in a few hits of his own.

“Yeah,” He taunted, “Run away. Just like you ran away from everyone you cared about—“

“Tommy,” Dream warned, jerking his eyes to the corner once again, anger slipped into his tone, growing with every second, “Stop now. I’m telling you—“

“Telling me what?” Tommy mocked, “What are you gonna do? _Manipulate me? Beat me? Kill me?_ You’ve tried it all before, and you know what, it never worked! But it wasn’t just me you manipulated, was it? You used Sapnap and George too! You didn’t even _give a fuck_ about them.”

Tommy barked out a laugh, walking over to Dream. He smiled, poking the man’s chest with his finger. Dream simply growled and clenched his hands into fists. 

Tommy had seen Dream angry before. This was different. This was raw. 

This was real.

He should stop.

Take the win of putting a dent in an unbreakable object. But he wanted the object to break, he wanted it to crack the way he did. He wanted Dream to feel the way he’d made him feel every damn day.

“You say that no one cares about me, but what about you? You’ve pushed away everyone! You are a sad, pathetic, lonely, little man.” 

“Attachments are worthless.” Dream bit out, glaring at Tommy, “It doesn’t bother me. I am the strongest man on the server. I don’t need anyone.”

“If it doesn’t bother you, then why don’t we talk about it?” Tommy asked mockingly, “Come on, Dream, _talk to me_.”

Dream rolled his eyes, turning away from Tommy, his eyes jerked to the upper corner of the room once again.

_Seriously, what the hell was he looking at?_

“Be quiet. This is your last warning, Tommy—“

Tommy smiled, shaking his head, “They loved you, ya know? In very different ways, of course. But Bad and Sapnap and George, they really did love you—“

A fist flew into Tommy’s mouth, knocking him onto the ground. His head hit the obsidian, sending stars dancing into his vision. Dream loomed over him, blurring slightly at the edges.

“I told you to shut up!” Dream brought his elbow down into Tommy’s side, causing him to let out a bark of pain. Dream laughed, turning towards the upper corner of the prison, “I tried, I really did!” He yelled, “But he's just such a little pest! An insolent little brat who deserves everything that happened to him.”

Dream turned back towards Tommy and kicked his stomach. The blond curled in on himself as the pain seared through his abdomen. 

Dream leaned down next to Tommy, so close that he could feel the smirk on the man’s face, “This is your punishment, Tommy.”

Tommy’s eyes widened, the words tearing open the wounds he had tried to heal in his mind, memories of exile poured into his vision.

_“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy,” Dream whispered, leaning over the trembling boy. He sighed, shaking his head. He seemed disappointed. He hadn't wanted to disappoint Dream, he never did. He’d said he was sorry. He was so sorry._

_“S—s’ry.” Tommy choked out. His whole body throbbed, searing pain pierced through his lungs as he eyes the blood red lines trailing down his chest. They were perfectly even, drawn expertly by a trained hand._

_“I know you are.” The voice whispered, as a kick sent another jolt of pain into his stomach, “But this has happened too many times. It seems you still haven’t learned your lesson!”_

_Tommy cried as another wave of pain washed over him, tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing with the dirt the littered the ground beneath him._

_“This is your punishment, Tommy.” Dream whispered expectantly. He waited for Tommy to find enough air in his lungs to force out a reply._

_“It’s—it’s what I deserve.”_

“It’s what I deserve.” Tommy whispered unthinkingly. The words burned his throat, and he hated that he allowed them to escape his mouth. They were disgusting. Wrong. That was wrong. It had always been wrong.

Dream seemed to back off slightly, a small smile growing onto his face, “Good, now—“

“NO!” Tommy cried weakly, shaking his head, “It’s not what I fucking deserve. You—you bitch!”

This wasn't exile.

He wouldn’t let himself fade into grey, he had to keep fighting. He had to. And if it came down to it, he’d rather die by Dream’s hand than his own. At least then people might actually care.

Dream sighed dramatically, “Oh, Tommy, I really thought we were getting somewhere! I thought we would finally be able to sit in the quiet, you having learned your lesson for the day.”

Tommy tried to raise himself to a seating position, but Dream threw him back to the ground.

“I didn’t want to do this,” He was talking to someone. He had to be. He was turned away from Tommy, towards the very corner of the cell itself. Maybe he saw people. Maybe he heard the same voices Technoblade did, that’d sure explain a lot.

“Fuck…you.” Tommy whispered spitefully, blood dripping down his chin.

Dream turned back towards him, frowning, “It’s quite rude to say things like that, you know.” Another kick to the stomach. “I even had the curtesy to politely ask you to stop.”

He leveled a kick to Tommy’s nose, and a sickening crack filled the air. Tommy screamed in pain, every part of him felt weak, broken. Just like it had before. No. This was not before. There was someone outside.

“You always try to tell yourself that people would come for you if they knew. _Oh, poor me, if they only knew the horrors that monster inflicted.”_

They would, Tommy told himself, he knew they would.

“But they do know.” Dream whispered, “They just don’t care. They don’t want to save the weak little pest that you are, the monster they know you could be. They want you here. Trapped. _Exiled._ ”

Tommy flinched violently, more memories of exile forcing their way to the front of his mind. He shoved them back down. He didn’t want those. He wanted out of this fucking prison. He wanted away from this god damn psychopath. He should’ve never came, he should’ve never even entered the prison.

This wasn’t exile.

“No.” He whispered, shaking his head, “No, no, no.”

Dream gripped Tommy’s hair, “Just see for yourself.” He jerked Tommy’s head, forcing him to look into the upper corner of the prison. It was the corner he had been talking to the entire time. Tommy didn’t see anything.

“I know…I know you’re a bit…crazy—“ Tommy choked out

“LOOK!” Dream commanded, pulling back Tommy’s hair. He shrieked, but in the upper corner of the room he saw a blinking light. It was faint and hidden, but if you looked closely, the green shimmering was unmistakable.

“You really think they care what’s happening to you? You really think the would rush in and save you if they knew?” A faint trace of emotion ghosted in his eyes as he smirked up at the light, “Well, Sam’s on the other side of that camera, and I don’t see him doing anything.”

Dream laughed, “You say they don't know, Tommy. Maybe they didn’t know how _sad_ you were in exile, but you claim that people want to save you, well…” Dream’s laugh echoed across the small prison, filling Tommy’s ears.

His face paled to grey.

This wasn’t exile.

It was so much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> Tommy reflects on how exile was like a prison. Dream tries to get Tommy to talk to him, and Dream once again tries to convince Tommy they are friends. Tommy says no and mentions some of the abuse he suffered in exile and calls Dream a monster, Dream pushes back calling Tommy the true monster and telling him that no one loves him. He throws Tommy across the room and Tommy angrily mentions Sapnap and George. Dream then tries to ignore Tommy, who continues to press Dream's buttons. Dream snaps and attacks Tommy, who gets a flashback of exile. Dream seems content at Tommy's discomfort, but Tommy continues to fight. Dream then tells Tommy once again that no one cares about him, and points to the security camera to prove it. Tommy finds out about the security camera and realizes that prison is a lot worse than exile.
> 
> End Summary
> 
> Notes:  
> So that was a lot, huh? Yeah, so canon doesn't exist here. We don't do that round these parts. Instead, we're gonna get some really sad Tommy, but then some SBI and Awesamdad feels.
> 
> The hurt comfort is coming, guys, I promise, you just gotta wait a bit longer.
> 
> If you liked it kudos and comments are really appreciated!


	6. Two Paths Diverged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could feel the pain radiating off of Tommy, feel the red hot fires of shame pooling in his chest. He could see the threads of bitterness that Dream had so diligently sewn into Tommy’s mind, see the cracking skin of a boy that had barely even healed. He could hear the whimpers escaping Tommy’s throat, hear the honeyed words that Dream would no doubt pour into Tommy’s ears.
> 
> But he couldn’t do anything about it.
> 
> He couldn’t.
> 
> Could he?

The path of life is one of many twists and turns. It is a road where many winding roads split apart from one another. Some paths are filled with jagged rocks and moldy weeds, whereas some are specked with flowers.

All paths are different.

Yet they all seem to intertwine.

Most of the time you know where you are stepping, you place one foot in front of the other, content with the fact that at least you are going somewhere. You allow life to string you along, allow yourself to fall and stumble and trip, so long as your feet will guide you.

So long as you keep walking.

But at some point, everyone stumbles upon a fork in the road. You’ve faced forks in the road before, but this one is different.

This one splits the road in two, creating a deep chasm that divides the future of your journey.

This is where your path splits.

This is when you are confronted by a decision that will change the rest of your life. You could go one way, or you could go the other.

The paths are wildly different.

One might be right.

One might be wrong.

But once you take a step down one path, once you make your final turn, there is no going back. There is no retracing your steps, no getting back to where you started. Once you reach this fork in the road, you must make a decision.

You cannot turn back now.

Two paths diverged.

This one decision shapes who you are, it twists your insides, reforming you to be able to survive down the road you chose. It decides who you will become, it can change your entire destiny.

It can seal your fate.

Phil chose his path when his sword pierced his son’s chest. He made his choice when he cradled a corpse in his arms, allowing his heavy tears to stain the broken remains of his little boy.

Technoblade made his choice when he told his little brother to die like a hero. His fate was sealed when withers filled the air, raining destruction down on the country that his brothers had given their soul to.

Wilbur’s fate was sealed when his fingertips caressed the button. He had chosen the most unclear path of them all, simply out of hope that it would be better than the broken one he had been forced down thus far.

And Dream’s fate was sealed when he turned away from the ones who loved him, and welcomed the cold embrace of power. His fate was sealed when he traded the warmth of fire, and the sturdiness of the Earth, for the hollow euphoria of control.

Everyone had a moment.

Everyone had a decision.

Sam believed he’d chosen his path when he’d stood up for Tommy in Dream’s vault. He thought that path had led him to the Big Innit hotel, he thought that path had led him to his son.

But there had never really been a choice there.

That wasn’t where his path had split.

Dream’s laugh mocked him through the camera. He knew the screen was one way, he knew that all Dream could see was a small light, but it still felt as if the man was looking straight through him.

He wished the only eyes that saw him were Dream.

He wished that he didn’t have to face the graying blue eyes of the child he had grown to love so deeply. But the small pools of melted steel bore into his eyes. They tore through his skin, nestling into his mind and ripping him apart from behind a silver screen.

He could feel the pain radiating off of Tommy, feel the red hot fires of shame pooling in his chest. He could see the threads of bitterness that Dream had so diligently sewn into Tommy’s mind, see the cracking skin of a boy that had barely even healed. He could hear the whimpers escaping Tommy’s throat, hear the honeyed words that Dream would no doubt pour into Tommy’s ears.

But he couldn’t do anything about it.

He couldn’t.

Could he?

“No,” Tommy’s voice whispered desperately from the cell, “No—“ His voice cracked as he ducked his head, caving in on himself. Dry sobs wracked his frame, his frail body shaking. Dream knelt down next to Tommy.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.” Dream whispered, “I really am.”

Dream curled his arm around Tommy, twisting a smooth hand over the child’s shoulder. He hesitated, waiting for the next move, waiting for the reaction. 

Sam’s breath hitched.

He waited for the cry of protest, the angry curse from Tommy as he shoved the man off of him.

It never came.

Instead Tommy stayed frozen. As if he no longer had the energy to fight, no longer had the strength to stop himself from breaking again.

A choke wrenched itself from Sam’s throat. He reached out to the screen in front of him.

_I’m here,_ he wanted to say, _I’m right here._

But he could not. He was not there with Tommy.

Dream was.

His emerald eyes glinted in the cell, bright as ever, as he threw a small smirk to the camera. It was the look you threw a loving crowd after a glorious win, one of pride, of arrogance. Of victory.

Sam’s knuckled whitened as he clenched the table in front of him. He picked up the portable security tablet, twisting it in his hand for a moment, before he threw it against the wall.

It shattered, the pieces clinking down to the ground beneath him. He felt his mind fog as the sounds of his boots echoing filled his ears. He was leaving the control room, leaving his view of Tommy.

Haunting black tunnels wound in front of him, vines of blackstone curling around trees of obsidian. This was his path, the familiar trail, one he had walked for ages. He had always been moving forwards, but it was only now he realized he had never truly been going anywhere.

He didn’t know where the path was leading him.

He didn’t know whee his feet were guiding him.

Then he saw the lava in front of his eyes.

He’d arrived at the entrance to Tom—Dream’s cell. The lava stared back at him, embers dancing through the magma. He had been here many times since Tommy had been locked in the prison.

27 times to be exact.

It had been 48 hours since Tommy had been locked in the prison.

And he had been here 27 times.

He always forced himself to leave, yet he was drawn back to the lever every single time. A moth to the flame, metal forced to succumb to the will of a magnet. He couldn’t escape the gravity that this one cell forced on him.

But he always left.

He thought this time would be the same. 

It wasn’t.

Something in him had shattered. He didn’t know if it was his morality, his soul, or if it was simply him finally realizing that there were more important things than professionalism. 

The Warden echoed around inside his head. It reminded him that he could not pull the lever. He could not give the most dangerous man on the server a chance at escape. It would go against everything he stood for.

Sam knew this was were his decision had to be made.

This was his moment,

This was where his paths diverged.

Sam.

The Warden.

Sam.

In front of him he saw two options.

A crossroad.

Two paths diverged.

He could leave Tommy in the prison, or he could let him out. He could stay strong, or give into weakness. He could be cruel, or he could be kind. He could be the Warden, or he could be Sam.

Leaving Tommy in the prison was fulfilling his duty as the Warden. Tommy was only one person. Dream, if given the chance, would break so many more than that. Tommy would crack, and he might break, but at least the monster would remain in its cage.

At least the server would be safe.

But what was the server without Tommy?

What were countries worth if they had no soldier to defend them?

What were fathers worth if two sons laid broken at their feet?

What were brothers worth if they had no siblings to protect?

What were builders worth if they had no one to build for?

What was his world worth if he lost the one person he wanted to give it to?

He gripped the lever that would lower the lava in his hand. His hand shook as thoughts rattled inside his head.

He could see his two roads diverging.

He could see that in one everything remained the same. Broken, fractured, yet everyone believed it to be safe. This pathway was the _right_ choice. It was what he should do. This path was grey, for it had little light, but it also lacked the blanket of darkness. It lacked the puppet strings that hung its victims, and it lacked the fear that could suffocate even the bravest of warriors.

He wished he could see the other path. He wished more than anything that he knew what pulling the lever would do, what the consequences would be.

But the other path was not clear.

He could not see it.

It might be filled with chasms and dead leaves and the very ground might even feel like knives to walk on. But no matter what else was on this path, no matter the pain, the suffering, no matter what else this path held.

It held Tommy.

It held his son. 

He took a deep breath, hand shaking as he gripped the lever in his hand.

Two paths diverged.

The Warden looked back at the doors to the room. The Warden wanted to walk out of those doors. The Warden wanted to leave this place. The Warden wanted to—

Sam pulled the lever.

The lava slowly started to fall downwards, and Sam felt a small, bittersweet smile stretch across his face. He’d made his choice. He’d _sealed his fate_. And he was getting his son back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. So basically I reread 'The Road Not Taken'. It's not about blockmen in the slightest. The poem has nothing to do with what happened in the story. However, I really love the idea of a road splitting, and that being a defining decision. Eh, I just thought this was cool.
> 
> Listen, I was going to make this fic like have Sam be more morally greyish and have EVEN MORE conflict with his feelings. Like, originally Sam wasn't going to let Tommy out so soon. But then canon hit me over the head with a stick...so here we are.
> 
> I feel like I kinda wrote this chapter a bit differently, like style wise, so think of it as like the bridge part. That doesn't make sense, does it? Oh well. 
> 
> So lmk if you guys like this chapter more or less than the others. Kinda just thought I'd try something that felt slightly different.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter was short. But next chapter is basically just a part 2 of this one and will be coming v soon. Except the writing style will kinda be more back to normal. AND WE FINALLY GET THE COMFORT!!!! YAY!
> 
> Also, in this fic Tommy was only in the prison for 48 hours. Why? CAUSE CANON MAKES ME SAD!!
> 
> If you liked it kudos and comments are deeply appreciated!


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